And Then There Were None
by CharlesTheBold
Summary: Why didn't Crane let Kat and Peeta kill themselves? This story has a possible explanation. Title borrowed from Agatha Christie's novel. Please Review.


**AND THEN THERE WERE NONE**

 _(Disclaimer: I have no business connection with HUNGER GAMES. My only purpose in writing this story is to have fun and maybe share it)_

 _(Author's Note: The title isn't mine. It was invented by an American editor for Agatha Christie's famous thriller, which oddly enough was another "elimination game.)_

Seneca Crane watches the screen of the 74th Hunger Games, first with satisfaction that he has gotten rid of the two-victor exception, then with growing horror at the surviving tributes' reaction.

"Go ahead," says the Boy From 12, looking at his companion's deadly bow and arrow. "One of us should return home. They need to have a victor."

After a few seconds of confusion, the Girl From 12 throws down her bow with revulsion. "No. They don't." She rummages in her pocket and draws out nightlock berries, which have already killed the Girl From 5. She divides the handful into 2, one clearly intended to kill the Boy, the other to kill herself.

Leaving Seneca with no victor.

Seneca shouts for Templesmith, then feels intense déjà vu for an incident that had occurred 5 years before.

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The Boy and Girl from 6, the last survivors of the 69th Hunger Games, stared at each other.

"It wasn't intended to end this way," said the girl.

The boy spoke bitterly. "We had no control over the way the game went. No reason to blame ourselves for being the Final 2."

"We have a choice now, though," said the girl. She looked at the two swords, which they had taken from dead Careers. It was considered quite all right to rob dead people in the Games, since the loot were ultimately considered gifts from the Gamemakers. "Fight to the death now, or wait until the Gamesmasters make us fight."

"Wait," said the boy. "Let the guilt fall on them. Let's make an agreement. When we do fight, it'll be by mutual agreement. I won't ambush you, you won't ambush me. We'll stay friends."

"All right," said the girl. "I'll swear to that."

"I swear too,"

They embraced. Practically, it wasn't a pleasant embrace, because they both stank from days of exposure and primitive hygiene. But it was the first human contact they had had for days, without regarding the other human as a deadly enemy.

The next day passed pleasantly enough. They had food, taken from the 22 dead tributes. No shelter, because this arena was mainly grasslands with some scattered trees, but they were used to that. They didn't have to wait nervously for possible attackers, because there were no attackers left. The big concern was wondering what the Gamesmasters were going to do, to force them to fight.

To distract themselves, they built a little shelter for themselves, using branches from the few trees, and covered with blankets from the other tributes' packs.

Then the rain came.

It didn't bother them at first. It had rained a few days before, and the Girl From 6 had taken advantage of it. She was alone then, so she had stripped off her clothes and treated it as if nature had given her a shower to clean herself off.

But this time, she felt pain on her hands, where the raindrops touched them. Looking closely, the water had a yellowish tinge.

The Boy from 6, whose hair was far shorter than the Girl's, grasped his ears in pain. "Acid rain!" he yelled. "Strong acid."

They stared at each other, then ran for their shelter.

It wasn't big enough to protect both. It hadn't been intended to be practical.

The Boy From 6 seized her around the waist and threw her aside. She sprang to her feet and charged at him. The pain was short-circuiting their thinking. At the back of their minds, they realized that the Gamesmasters were doing this, to force them to fight. But it seemed to each that the other was trying to block them from the one refuge available.

Finally, vaguely remembering an injury from a fight years earlier, the girl formed a fist and rammed it into the boy's solar plexus. He went down gasping, and probably swallowed some of the poisoned rain. The cannon went off only seconds after the girl rushed into the shelter.

Shortly before she fainted from the pain, she heard the odd sound of trumpets, and had a hazy memory of a legend called "The Last Trump" announcing the end of the world. Then she realized that she had won the 69th Hunger Games.

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The Girl From 6 was in a daze, not much aware of her surroundings. She thought she was in a Capitol hospital. The only thing she was clearly aware of was a clear small voice inside her.

"Do you know the worst thing about the Games?" it said. "Not that young people die. It's that they are turned into murderers first."

"I killed him!" she shouted. "I killed my best friend!"

"But you have one big advantage. They died with the guilt still on their heads. But you're still alive, and can do something about it. Think of what you could do, with your new wealth and prestige, to make up for it."

"Nothing will make up for it," said the Girl From 6. "I not only killed, I broke a solemn promise I made. Not to fight without agreement. To stay friends! I'm a complete bitch."

"You can always blame the Gamesmasters," said the voice. "They put you in the arena. They encouraged the 24 of you to kill each other. They tortured you into the final fight."

"It's not enough just to blame them."

Then the sensations changed. She was in a hospital room. She was practically tied up by various bits of tubing. One of them must have been an IV feeding in nourishment, because she felt a lot less hungry than in the arena.

There was a nurse standing beside the bed. She was holding a hypodermic needle, which she had presumably used to revive the Girl. "It's all right," she said in a professionally soothing voice. "The Games are over. We're fixing you up so that you can talk to Caesar on national TV."

"I feel weird."

"We're regenerating some of your skin, where the acid damaged it," said the nurse. She sounded professionally soothing again, but the Girl from 6 reminded herself that the nurse worked for the same organization that sent the acid bath in the first place. "I'll get some more – "

The Girl didn't know more what, because the woman turned and went to a cabinet at the side of the room. The hypodermic needle was sitting on a tray at the side of the bed. Though hampered by the tubing and the numb feeling in her hands, the Girl managed to get a hold on it. Then she jabbed the needle between her breasts, aiming for her heart. She died with the thought _, maybe this'll make up for it._

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"Do you know what this means?" demanded President Snow, glaring at Crane and his superior, Matilda Turkeymother. "The nurse has been punished for allowing her patient to commit suicide, but now we have no Victor. No interview with Caesar, and no Victory Tour this year."

"Does it matter?" asked Matilda. "The Tours cost a lot of money. It'll be saved."

Snow focused his glare on her, to Crane's relief. "That money is spent for a purpose. The purpose of the Victory Tours isn't just to honor the Victor. It's psychological. The Districts must always be reminded of the cost of rebellion. Games in the summer, the Tour in the winter.

We're going to have to think of something different this year."

"I've made two decrees already," added the President. "First the name of this year's Victor is never to be spoken again. Secondly, Crane, you are hereby promoted to the position of new Head Gamesmaster."

"You're sacking me?" demanded Matilda.

"Oh, no," replied the President coldly. "I'm having you executed."

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To Crane's relief, they bring in Templesmith. After making his announcement that the two-victor rule had been revoked, he has been watching the Games on a monitor outside. Crane orders him to reinstate the two-victor rule and declare the Boy and Girl from 12 as the victors.

On screen, the pair drop the deadly berries. Crane sits in his chair in relief. He has headed off a Victor suicide, and the interviews and Tour can precede normally this year, albeit with an extra participant.

Snow will be pleased.

THE END.


End file.
